


Good Intentions

by Inell



Series: 2017 Prompt Challenge [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon Divergence, College Professor Joseph Hale, Crushes, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Getting Together, High School Teacher Stiles Stilinski, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mutual Pining, Older Man/Younger Man, Papa Hale's Name is Joseph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9441884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Stiles is trying to be mature by avoiding the problem, but Joseph insists on talking about what’s been bothering Stiles lately.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Papa Hale/Stiles - “You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?”
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, Nonnie!

“You’ve been pouting ever since I went out on that date, what’s up?”

 “Are you really doing this?” Stiles looks up from the menu and stares at the man across the table from him.

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean by ‘this’ because I’m getting the feeling it doesn’t mean communicating with a good friend of mine regarding their recent behavioral change,” Joseph says thoughtfully. He leans back against the booth and gives Stiles a curious look. “What’s wrong, brat?”

“Nothing’s wrong. And I don’t pout,” Stiles mutters, looking back at his menu and wondering for the twentieth time in as many minutes  _why_  he had agreed to meet Joseph for lunch today. It’s too soon. He’s managed to successfully avoid him for the last week, and it’s been nice. Well, not really  _nice_  but safe. It’s not like Stiles can ruin their friendship if he isn’t around to blurt out shit he’s not supposed to talk about.

“Stiles, you might be twenty-four years old and a successful high school teacher, but you  _do_  pout.” Joseph nudges his leg under the table, arching a furry brow that is so reminiscent of Cora that Stiles wonders how such a trait can be genetic. “C’mon. Talk to me, kid.”

“I’m not a kid.” Stiles shifts in the booth, moving his legs so Joseph won’t be able to reach them easily. They’re very casual about touching, all of the Hale family that Stiles is around the most tend to be, and he normally likes that about Joseph. Today, it’s something he doesn’t want to deal with at all, though.

“You’re behaving a lot like one right now,” Joseph points out, voice still gentle and almost cautious. Like he’s talking to one of his kids having a tantrum.

The thing is, Stiles  _isn’t_  one of his kids. He might have been best friends with Cora throughout high school and college, but he’s never been that pesky kid hanging around with Joseph. Talia, sure, because that’s the parent Cora lived with, but Joseph had moved across town when he and Talia were divorced when Cora was in seventh grade, which was before she and Stiles really got close. So he only knew him enough to call him a DILF with his non-Cora friends who were into guys.

They didn’t spend tons of time with him until their senior year, when Cora got lonely with Laura and Derek in NYC and her mom working a lot. That’s when Stiles really got to know her dad, and Joseph doesn’t actually treat him like a child, not in recent years, but sometimes it comes out. That parental voice of reason that Stiles has heard him use on Cora and never wants to hear in relation to himself because that makes his feelings for Joseph seem creepy when they really aren’t.

“How _was_ your date?” Stiles asks, changing the subject and feeling rather proud that he didn’t sneer nearly as much as he wanted to when asking that question.

“It was a bit of a disaster,” Joseph admits, shrugging a broad shoulder when Stiles snaps his gaze up to stare at him. “We have nothing in common. Besides, all she seemed interested in was sex. There won’t be a second date, that’s for sure.”

“Oh.” Stiles looks at his menu again, making himself stop thinking about Joseph running off to marry the pretty pre-school teacher who isn’t much older than Stiles. He tries to make himself respond like a friend should, hiding his pleasure at the fact the date didn’t go well. “Sorry to hear that.”

“No, you aren’t.” Joseph scratches his jaw, fingers making a scritch scritch noise as they scrape against his beard. “I don’t even have to use my special senses to realize that’s a lie. Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now or do we have to continue behaving like children who can’t communicate like adults?”

“Just because I’m not agreeing with you about the pouting thing doesn’t mean I’m unable to communicate,” Stiles says, a little sharper than he intends but he’s so fucking tired of Joseph using the nearly thirty year age different between them to make him feel like some immature kid. It’s not even intentional when Joseph does it, but it’s annoying regardless.

“I never said that, Stiles.” Joseph sighs. “You’re putting words into my mouth now.”

“And you’re putting behavior into mine.” Stiles looks up and frowns. “Not in my mouth, but in my actions. I wasn’t pouting because you went out with Marcy.”

“Darcy. Her name is Darcy, which you know.” Joseph arches a brow before he huffs a laugh. “I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous, but that’s ridiculous.”

“Right. Ridiculous.” Stiles closes the menu and stares at the condensation on his glass of water for a moment. “You know, you talk about me being immature, but maybe you need to look in the mirror sometime, old man. Just because you’re in your fifties, it doesn’t mean you get a free pass to hurt people.”

Joseph frowns, nostrils flaring slightly as he scents the air. “What’s wrong? You’re sad, and I don’t understand why. Talk to me, Stiles.”

“Why? It’s not like you ever listen, do you? I’m just some foolish kid. Your baby girl’s best friend who doesn’t know what he wants and doesn’t know how he feels.” Stiles shakes his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to lunch. Not so soon after that date. I’m going now. I’ll, uh, call you sometime.”

“I do listen,” Joseph says, reaching across the table to grip Stiles’ wrist as he slides out of the booth. “You have to tell me what’s wrong, brat. I don’t want to deal with another week of you avoiding me and half-assedly answering your texts.”

“ _You_ don’t want.” Stiles reaches out to uncurl Joseph’s fingers from around his wrist. “It isn’t always about you, Joseph. I need to get out of here. I’ll see you soon.”

Before Joseph can persuade him to stay, Stiles turns and leaves the restaurant. He’s parked down the street, so he pulls his coat a little tighter around him before he sets off to the lot. He’s halfway there when he hears footsteps running up behind him. Stepping to the side, he waits for someone to run past, but, instead, strong hands grip his shoulders and stop him mid-step.

“I’m not letting you run away.” Joseph steps in front of him and turns to face him. His hair is disheveled like he’s been carding his fingers through it, and he looks worried in a way that Stiles hasn’t really seen before. “I could have just let you leave, let you have space like you obviously want, but I can’t, damn it. I miss you, Stiles. I  _miss you_. Just talk to me. Please?”

“Why? You obviously never listen.” Stiles looks around because he doesn’t want to make a scene in the middle of downtown. The last thing he needs is his dad pulling up due to a complaint. “I’m not doing some big dramatic thing right here, old man. My Jeep’s just down there. We can talk in it.”

“I’m too old for big dramatic things anyway,” Joseph mutters, studying Stiles’ face intently before he steps aside. “Lead the way.”

Stiles walks briskly to Roscoe, unlocking the door before sliding inside. He has a moment of temptation to just drive away and avoid Joseph for the rest of his life, but the thought of not seeing Joseph hurts worse than the rejection he’s already dealing with. Hesitantly, he reaches over to unlock the passenger door before he puts the key in the ignition to start the heater. Of all the days for a cold front to hit Beacon Hills, it has to be during a post-date meeting with Joseph.

“I’m listening, Stiles,” Joseph says quietly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” Stiles snorts. “What’s wrong is that Darcy is only a year older than I am. You told me that I’m too young to even know what I want, but you somehow think she’s old enough.” He looks at Joseph and frowns. “You sit there laughing about me being jealous when  _you know_  how I feel about you. I just wish you’d been honest from the start, Joseph. If you’d told me that you weren’t interested instead of giving me that whole bullshit line about our ages and friendship being more important, maybe it wouldn’t suck this hard to deal with you dating someone that isn’t me. But you didn’t. You gave me excuses that I tried to believe only to turn around and date someone my age.”

“I told you…” Joseph straightens up and blinks at him. “Stiles, we had that talk when you were  _eighteen_  and showed up at my house wanting me to be your first. I’m almost three decades older than you, and you’re best friends with my daughter. You had a crush on me, which was flattering, sure, but I’m not in the habit of sleeping with teenagers.”

“Do you have any idea how much nerve it took for me to do that?” Stiles curls his fingers into his palms, feeling his blunt nails pressing against his skin. “I’ve wanted you since I was fifteen, and I thought maybe turning eighteen would make you realize I wasn’t some kid, after all, but you just gave me stupid excuses that were a bunch of lies because age obviously isn’t important to you or you wouldn’t have gone out with Darcy.”

“Stiles.” Joseph sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “When you were eighteen, you were a smart kid that respected my daughter properly, and that’s all. I’m not going to lie to you and say that I didn’t actually consider it for about thirty seconds because, fuck, I’m only human, and you were so willing to do anything I wanted. But it would have just been sex because you were graduating _high school_. In the end, it could have really hurt you because you had a crush on me then.”

“Right. Some stupid kid with a crush.” Stiles stares out the front windshield, jaw tense. “That’s still how you see me, isn’t it? You’re never going to see me as anything but Cora’s dorky friend, and  _that’s_  what hurts. That’s why I’ve avoided you all week. Because you mean everything to me, but you don’t even  _see me_. And it hurts.”

“It’s not,” Joseph whispers, rubbing his knuckles against the denim stretched across his thigh. “That was six years ago, Stiles. Before you went to college. Before we really spent any time together on our own. Before we became friends independently of Cora’s relationship with you.” Joseph looks at him. “I’ve been so busy trying to ignore the way I feel about you that I never realized your crush had become something more.”

Stiles turns his head and narrows his eyes. “The way you feel about me?”

“I’m too old for you, Stiles. I lived a life before you were even born. But you’re like this bright vibrant force of nature that came into my life via Cora, and now you’ve taken up permanent residence despite my best intentions.” Joseph smiles wryly. “The nights we catch a movie or have dinner are the highlight of my week, you know? I started looking forward to spending time with you several years ago, and I’ve managed to keep my growing feelings for you separate from our friendship because I thought that was best for both of us.”

“It hasn’t been just a crush since I was sixteen, Joseph.” Stiles looks away and bites his lip. “I knew you were too old for me, that I was just some stupid kid that you’d never want, but it doesn’t change how I feel. Love isn’t really logical or rational. It doesn’t care about the reasons why it’s a bad idea. It only cares that I feel happy when I’m with you. That I compare everyone I date with you and they come up lacking. That I still get off faster thinking about making out with you than I do when I fuck someone else.”

“You aren’t some stupid kid, Stiles.” Joseph reaches over and gently grips his chin, forcing him to look at him. “Sure, you’re a brat a lot of the time, but that’s part of your charm. I’m sorry I hurt you. It was never my intention.”

“Seems like your intentions aren’t always that great,” Stiles murmurs. He stares into Joseph’s eyes, his breath catching like some kind of corny heroine in a romance novel when he sees the unguarded emotion in those pretty hazel eyes. “Maybe you should, uh, kiss me?”

Joseph looks at his mouth, thumb rubbing Stiles’ jaw as he leans over and presses their lips together. He can feel Joseph’s beard against his bottom lip, making it tingle a little, and then there are soft lips moving over his. It’s a gentle kiss, almost hesitant, giving him time to pull away if he changes his mind. Like he’s not head over heels in love with Joseph and hasn’t been for years. When they do break apart, Joseph strokes Stiles’ face.

“That okay?” he asks softly.

“More than.” Stiles licks his lips. “Would you want to go out with me sometime, old man? Like a date?”

“How about now?” Joseph leans in and ghosts his mouth across Stiles’ lips. “We can go to that diner you love, get some greasy food and discuss what all this means for our relationship.”

“You and all the talking,” Stiles mutters, lips curving into a slight smile. “Greasy food sounds good, though.”

“Maybe if we’d talked years ago, we’d have been on the same page all this time,” Joseph points out, rubbing their noses together.

“Maybe if you’d have listened instead of dismissing me as some teenager who doesn’t know what he really wants, we’d have been on that same page, too,” Stiles says, moving his fingers into Joseph’s hair. “Doesn’t really matter now, does it? You’re finally listening, and I’m talking, so we understand what we both want.”

“Yes, we do,” Joseph agrees before kissing him again. This one is a little more passionate, not as sweet, more toe curlingly hot and a little desperate. Stiles returns it with equal fervor, channeling years of desire and want into each lick of his tongue and press of his lips. He has to gulp in air when they pull apart, his lips tingling from Joseph’s beard and the pressure from the kiss. Joseph drags his fingers through his hair. “You’re going to be the death of me, brat.”

“Nah. Werewolves have a longer lifespan, so I think you’ll be able to keep up with me just fine,” Stiles says, pulling Joseph back for another kiss. Sure, they need to go talk, to clear the air and make sure this relationship starts on honesty and adult shit like communication. But that can wait for a while. He wants more kisses before things get talky and serious. He’s got nine years of not kissing Joseph to make up for, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](http://inell.tumblr.com)


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